Trollosphere?

That's what Tribune columnist Bob Cuddy called the Board of Supervisor meetings -- Trollosphere, "that shadowy online world where sad, twisted losers project the frustrations of their failed lives onto normal people by insulting them viciously in comment sections on the Internet."

Bob forgot to note that in real Troll-World, the sad, twisted losers are almost always "anonymous," whereas the people who earned Bob's ire were standing at the BOS podium during Public Comment and had identified themselves.  And while their Trollish comments aren't being broadcast via radio, their faces are on camera for online streaming of the meetings.  So, hardly "anonymous."

But, yes, according to Bob's March 24th column,"Supervisors beset with a toxic air"
( http://www.sanluisobispo.com/2013/02/23/2404474/toxic-mix-at-the-board-of-supervisors.html  )  the Board is now further mired into a deeper mud puddle, so it's become the gift that keeps on giving; to board watchers and columnists, at least.

Underlying the grumbling ill-will is, of course, the remnants of the Hideous Sewer Wars.  Over that we added the often  ridiculous spectacle of Adam Hill and his intemperate temper issues,  followed by Bruce Gibson's, uh,  lady-friend debacle, followed by the election of Debbie Arnold who waltzed in to immediately challenge the Old Gentleman's Club of too cozy logrolling committeeship/chair appointments.  Which got the old boys huffing like Senator Cleghorn Foghorn --"Now, now,  li'l Lady, I suggest ya'all are new here so ah think y'all need to take a seat ovah there an' keep quiet 'till y'all can learn how we'all do thangs in this heah chamber." 

Which surely didn't endeared the Board to Ms. Arnold or Ms. Arnold to the Board. Cuddy thinks that there's "a lot of blame to go around.  Gibson's behavior and Adam Hill's sharp tongue are factors. But a significant cause of the venom is clearly the behavior of Arnold and the enraged people who back her."  Cuddy also adds, "The Arnold crowd has significant policy difference with Gibson, Hill and more regulation-oriented board members and staff." 

Which raises an immediate question:  What evidence does Cuddy offer that Arnold's backers (who have significant policy differences) are "enraged?" I couldn't find any in his column; perhaps that will be forthcoming.

Meanwhile, what seemed to get Cuddy's goat about last Tuesday's meeting was two-fold: Tom Salmon, who has demonstrated intemperate temperament issues of his own, got up during public comment and  referred to Gibson's girlfriend/aide as a "whore" and a "prostitute," and Chairman Teixeira tried to shush Salmon (good luck with that) which prompted several Los Ososian Sewerites into hollering about free speech during Public Comment.  Sigh.

After which, Cuddy reports, Debbie Arnold thanked Salmon for his comments, "assuring him that each of the five supervisory offices is autonomous and that the inhabitants therein conduct themselves differently," thereby attempting to pull her skirt hems away from the Gibson mud pile.  While everyone else sat on their hands wishing Gibson into the corn field and, I'm guessing, rolling their eyes like trapped feral cats.

Well, what else can anyone expect?  Those three minutes of public comment have always been often dangerous [but powerfully protected]  I.E.Ds. in the hands of the crazy, the disgruntled, the bone-pickers, the furious, the righteous and the concerned.  And the power of that I.E.D. is fueled by divisive issues and/or disgraceful behavior by those in power.  In this case, the burr under the public's saddle is Supervisor Gibson' bad behavior which was followed by his successfully gaming the system to suit his needs -- the public (and his fellow Supervisors) be damned.  There's nothing like it for fueling fury and for creating chronically hostile Board meetings, since the burr remains firmly under the saddle and fellow Supervisors are stuck with keeping silent, (and incurring public criticism for that silence) or speaking out (and having Bob Cuddy accuse them of  "poking a finger in [a fellow board members's] eye). 

Truly a disagreeable set of Hobson's Choices, all of which turns the BOS into TrollVille. And The Gibson Problem will remain in place until he and/or his girlfriend/aide resign, which will happen when pigs fly.  One thing for sure is this: Both Adam Hill and Bruce Gibson have publicly demonstrated they are not in control of themselves, are blind to the iron Rule of Caesar's Wife that comes with public office, and, as a result, have showed extremely  poor judgement. If past behavior is a good predictor of future behavior, I think the public has a perfect right to consider, question, reference past behavior whenever a supervisor is considering and/or voting on some complex, contentious issue that requires good judgement, since that vote (and that judgement) will affect the public.  

Meantime, our BOS is in for some lively times.  Especially with the new so-called "enraged" Arnold crowd . . . whoever those people might be . . . joining the usual suspects. . Keep your seat belts fastened.

Dumb Move, Part Duh

Ooooo, Noooo. Has this Jim Patterson/Sarah Christie dust-up gone off into the ditch? Or has the Tribune? Its headlines Dec 23: “Ex-Commissioner says she was betrayed.” Really? Betrayed? Then can someone tell me why the word “betrayed” in quotation marks of a proper direct quote by Christie is to be found nowhere in Bob Cuddy’s story? What Cuddy wrote is, “Former Planning Commissioner Sarah Christie says the man who appointed her, supervisor Jim Patterson, betrayed her in a ‘muscular act of political disloyalty’ and has created a rift in the North County environmental movement.” So, “muscular act of political disloyalty” appears inside quotation marks, but not the word “betrayed.”

So, did Christy use that word? Or did reporter Bob Cuddy?

I ask because the word “betrayed” is the language of lovers, the language of the deeply personal, a gender skewed, sexual harass-y word that carries with it the whiff of gender and power dimorphism. It’s the word used by the helpless weeping woman singing the blues: “I Gave Him The Best Years Of My Life And He Done Betrayed Me and Run Off With That Awful Woman From Trenton, New Jersey, Boo-Hoo, Twang-twang-twang.”

So, No, No, No, wrong word. In the game of muscular public power politics, a better choice would be, “He Done Double-Crossed Me, That Sneaky, Down Low No-Good Varmint!”

Over at the New Times, Colin Rigley interviewed Christy at her home and notes that “She has some collection of folksy music playing and occasionally jumps up to fiddle with the stereo or put in a new CD when the music stops. When she walks back, she sways her hips slightly in little dances and when she sits back down, she sometimes sings along for a word or two,” all apparently critical information the reader needs to know, especially the slightly dancing hips thing. Apparently that highly telling detail about swinging hips was included because it helps the reader to understand the larger philosophical ramifications of her work on the Planning Commission.

But while Rigley’s interview included swaying hips, the word “betrayal” didn’t appear once. Christie was quoted as saying, ‘As you know, I’m a former reporter, and in all the years I did that work, I developed the ability to remember words clearly because you don’t always have the ability to take notes. And I remember very clearly what he said to me, and what he said to me was this: ‘I am done with you, I am so done with you. I have been defending you since the day I appointed you, and I can’t defend you anymore because at this point I agree with the people who are criticizing you.’ And that is verbatim. And as I said last night, I don’t know what that means because I haven’t changed. I mean, I hope I have grown in the job, but in terms of my values and my priorities, I have been completely consistent, regardless of what side of the vote I was on . . . I have never ever voted against those values. I haven’t changed. Begs the question: Who’s changed? What’s changed?”

There were lots of words in that interview but not once did the word “betray” appear.

But “I am done with you,” returns us deliciously to the realm of the language of love, as in, “Ah Married Yew And Now Yew Ran Off With That Guy From Trenton, New Jersey, So Ah Am Done With Yew, Lady Mine, Twang-twang-twang.”

A few pages over on the Opinion page, Jack McCurdy, former reporter for the L.A. Times and the California correspondent for the Chronicle of Higher Education, and bete noir to Morro Bay’s power plant expansion plans is holding forth, noting, “The planning commissioners do not bask in the political limelight, as do elected officials: Relatively few county residents witnessed Christie in action in that setting and therefore can’t really comprehend the severity of losing her. Those of us who have worked alongside her, been taught the art of activism by her and have witnessed her amazing capability and resulting accomplishment for the environment and the public interest, do understand.”

He further notes, “ . . . I believe strength is her greatest quality: strength stemming from her intellect, skills, and long experience in public affairs and environmental protection. She is always respectful and considerate of others in a straightforward manner. Her detractors have disparaged her as being abrasive because she cannot be bridled and/or simply because she’s a strong woman. And she is no doubt annoying to those who want their economic power to prevail, the very ones who targeted her.” . . . “Those interests know full well the Board of Supervisors can and sometimes has countermanded Planning Commission recommendations and actions. But they also know that when the supervisors override commission findings, they frequently are held accountable by well-informed government watchers, including New Times alone among the community media.”

And so forth. Yet nowhere in McCurdy’s piece does the word “betray” or “betrayed”. So, who used that word: Christie or Cuddy?

Meantime, here’s a piece of Sage Advice For The Clueless from Mother Calhoun To Avoid Dumb Moves in the future:

If you are an elected official and you appoint someone to a Commission or Board and they turn into a political (to you) liability, under no circumstances do you do what Patterson did – dump ‘em in the middle of the road for no discernable reason.

This county is constantly engaged in a soap opera neck and neck race between venality and stupidity and dumping demonstrably competent, highly knowledgeable Commissioners is a two-for-one losing bet all ‘round.

Instead, if your term will be up soon (and you’ll be running for office again) both of you will appear at a press conference standing on the steps outside the County government center. You will play the loving couple. Both of you will be smiling with such gleaming white teeth that the reporters will have to put on their sunglasses if they wish to avoid being blinded from the dazzle. You will announce that your Commissioner’s previously agreed-upon 4-year term of service will expire with your term and your Commissioner is anxious to move onto to other projects. You will express feelings of profound loss at losing so wonderful a Commissioner, praise his/her service in glowing terms usually reserved for saints and crowned heads of Europe, thank him/her profusely for his/her service, announce your upcoming election and if you have a new replacement in mind, announce your choice then. Your former Commissioner will then tell the world what a wonderful guy you are, how honored he/she was to serve the greater public good, and declare that his/her replacement will serve the public splendidly.

Sure, both of you will be lying through your teeth, but dead bodies in the street or knives flashing in the hot sun in front of a gaggle of reporters should NOT be part of the Official Public Kabuki Theatre Performance Piece you are required (if you’re smart) to engage in. And sure, the Public --wink-nudge—will read between the political lines and know what’s really going on and vote accordingly. But a properly timed and performed announcement will provide a plausible cover story for everyone that will avoid public humiliation, serious questions about cronyism or political opportunism or political pressure or your lack of sense. You will both save face, and the word “betray” will not need to appear in the headlines.

Even if it is only a word made up by the reporter or headline writer.

My Sunday Letter To The Editor And Other Things

Ah, Gawd Love the Tribune.

Dear Sir:

Recently, Dave Edge, SLO County's former chief administrative officer, wrote an article for Public Management Magazine, 'splaining how he came to be un-hired. I'm betting that the average Tribune reader has never heard of and will never read a copy of that magazine and is totally oblivious that Edge wrote anything that appeared anywhere. And the only reason I knew about that is because the Tribune put the story on Edge's self-serving article on the front page of the paper with a big, ginormous headline followed by a story filled with quotes from the magazine article. So now everybody knows all about it, too.

The very next day, the Tribune sends Edge an editorial brickbat, and declares that "some occasions call for silence, and this is one," then asks him to slink off into the sunset rather than trumpeting his advice to former colleagues.

Does the opinion page editor not read her own paper or doesn't she understand anything about front page headlines and how trumpets work?

Mice. Must be Mice.

No sooner had Marley’s Tree been trimmed than Christmas elves put up a birdhouse. O.K, it was probably my neighbor. So life goes on. Even on dead trees.

Or doesn’t. I was out in the backyard last evening doing poop patrol and my flashlight caught what looked like one of Finn’s stuffy toys. Finn is incapable of leaving the back door without a stuffy toy in his mouth. Eventually he ends up hauling out every one of his toys and I have to start toy patrol to bang the sand out of them and bring them back in.
But this was no toy. It was a dead possum. A youngster, from its size, and dead as a doornail, his naturally disheveled possum fur was looking disreputable now, and sad and damp and cold and still. I presume the dogs must have caught him, though what in the world he was doing in a backyard full of dogs I can’t imagine. But fear and a quick bite certainly ended his confused, myopic wanderings. I took his body out to the front yard. The crows will make a meal of him.

And life goes on, even when it doesn’t.

Your Sunday Poem
by Kay Ryan from “Say Uncle.”

The Fabric of Life

It is very stretchy.
We know that, even if
many details remain
sketchy. It is complexly
woven. That much too
has pretty well been
proven. We are loath
to continue our lessons,
which consist of slaps
as sharp and dispersed
as bee stings from
a smashed nest,
when any strand snaps –
hurts working far past
the locus of rupture,
attacking threads
far beyond anything
we would have said
connects.